


Bad to Better

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Sanders Sides [22]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: basically the two spending time together, i love these bois, it's Remus, lots of fluff, mentions of King Creativity, some patton angst, some remus angst, some unsettling imagery, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Remus is having a bad day.A very bad day.Patton is there to help
Series: Sanders Sides [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594594
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	Bad to Better

On a bad day, Remus was insufferable. He would admit it, he, too, found himself to be too much. Too loud, too hot, too present, too, too much. Fabric against his skin felt like briars sticking into his pores, no clothing felt like ice against his skin. Breathing was oh so loud, and so was his heart beat, and so was the rush of blood through his veins, until he contemplated slitting his wrists just to get the noise to stop, to watch red seep across the carpet, or drain down the bathtub, his pulse slowing, slowing, slooowing before stopping and then it would be perfectly, blessedly silent. 

On bad days, he couldn’t stand being alone, if he was alone he felt like he would go crazy, his own thoughts might drive him even further into insanity, if he went into the imagination it would morph and shift in the blink of an eye, too fast to comprehend, full of viscera and goop and crunched bones. On bad days, maybe he’d throw himself off a cliff, jump out of a plane without a parachute, jump into raging rapids full of razor sharp rocks, jump into a jet turbine, drink acid, or eat rat poison, or chug anti-freeze, just to see if he could still fell anything at all. 

On bad days, he couldn’t stand being around others. Every rustle of clothing, every soft sound of chewing, every slurp of a drink, every click of the remote, every turn of a page, every quiet laugh or spoken word or disgruntled sound was like a crack of thunder against his skull and there were too many colors and too many noises, and it made him want to claw out his own brain, if only so he didn’t have to comprehend anything anymore because everything was already far too much. 

On bad days, he couldn’t stop the speed of his thoughts, flashing through his head so fast they gave him whiplash, running together like one giant endless paragraph, barely comprehendible even to him, until they fell apart into ceaseless unintelligible babble and drivel that had him pulling out his hair by the roots, clawing against his own skin, anything, anything to drown out the endless ceaseless moronic chatter.

This wasn’t a bad day.

This was a very bad day. 

He was numb. Empty. The ceaseless noise in his head was completely, utterly silent. Everything about him was still. He didn’t think he could move if he tried, didn’t even want to think about trying. 

He stared up at the blank, pure white. It should grate at his eyes, this sameness, it should scream at him to cover it up, to color it, paint it, create upon this canvas, but instead he felt nothing. He closed his eyes. It didn’t change. Still just that wall of white. 

He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. His limbs pressed against the ground, they were so heavy, he was surprised he didn’t just sink down and down and down into the earth until the dirt covered him and he fell into the molten core. 

Even that didn’t elicit emotion. It was gone in a second, leaving his mind empty once again, completely devoid of thought or concern or ideas. Blank, blank, blank. Hollow. That was a word, he thought idly.

A noise. A knock, maybe, but it flitted out of sight, out of mind. Heavy. He was so heavy. His eyes sunk closed, or did they open? It didn’t matter. It was all the same, anyways. Everything was. White, white, white. Nothing else had ever existed against this endless void of color, this absence of everything.

Was he even breathing anymore? Did he even need to? He didn’t know. Didn’t care, the thought slipped from his mind as he tried to hold onto it, fading again into that abyssal void. He could lay like this forever, let the numbness break him apart, piece by piece, and maybe then he would be put back together in his proper form. 

He remembered deep eyes staring back from the mirror. A crown upon wavy hair. Dark pants, white shirt, red cape, green embroidery. King never got stuck. Never went numb. He was wild and unpredictable and mischievous and warm as the sun. He could summon a kingdom with a flick of his finger, he could tame a dragon with his songs, he could cast thunder with his voice, lightning crackled in his veins. He was a wonder, a powerhouse, fearless and dauntless and vengeful and spiteful, like a fae, it was always unclear what mood he’d be in or what he would say. But his smile lit up the earth and his frown sent shivering cold. 

He’d found a picture, once, just once, in Dee’s room. He’d stared at it for hours, tracing every line, every feature, every color and detail and crease, trying to see any of himself in this mythical King he’d once been a part of. Once been. Dee had found him sitting in the middle of the floor, tears flowing down his cheeks as he rocked, mourning someone he’d never known, he barely remembered being, and had soothed him back into a state of calm. He burned the picture. 

Later that night, though, desperate, he painstakingly crafted the outfit, every detail perfect, every seam and crease and line, and when he looked in the mirror he muffled his scream, beating it until glass was strewn across the room, until his fists were raw and bloody and he could feel glass grating against bone, because he felt such utter devastation. 

He should have known, should have known he could never be Him, should have known the loss and the emptiness and the screaming, raging tornado of anger and fear would swallow him because that reflection showed nothing, nothing but a void where a God once stood, and he was nothing compared to who he used to be, who he always should have been. 

He wondered, sometimes, if the others remembered. Dee had the photo. He must have. He remembered the surprise, the anger, when he’d showed up at the doorstep, explaining the split. He wondered if Dee regretted not being there, being able to say goodbye. Being locked out while one of the Sides was torn apart, unable to do his job from the dark and protect. 

He wondered if Virgil had mourned. He’d known King. Probably hadn’t liked him. If he and Roman were extra and ostentatious, King was like a fireworks show, explosive and fire all contained under a veneer of a wicked smile and movement. 

He wondered what Logan thought. Logan was interesting, he could imagine King reciting poems and plays, acting them out, could imagine his fiery speeches and his philosophical ramblings, could imagine Logan and him debating, conversing deep into the night, sharing a love of literature and themes and symbolism, neither afraid of the darkness just below the surface. Yes, Logan would have been friends with Him. 

Patton… well. Patton was the cause, wasn’t he? But, but, but, he had no doubt that the side hadn’t meant to cause it, hadn’t meant to push and pull and tug until one became two, had no doubt the moral side had spent more than a few sleepless nights crying into his pillow, wondering what he’d done, how he could have, if only he hadn’t, mourning a lost friend until his pillow was thoroughly soaked. 

He wondered if Roman remembered, what Roman remembered. He wondered sometimes if Roman had gotten more of King than him, if the split really was 50/50 like everyone assumed, or if it was more like 70/30. Because he was sure he wouldn’t have this emptiness if it was an even split, sure he wouldn’t be this broken, sure Roman must have more of Him because everyone else seemed to think so, too.

He hadn’t gotten any memories. Not really. It was strange, not being able to remember anything before Thomas was, what, just over thirteen? It was like being split set them back into default mode, started them over from zero, everyone was new, everything was new, he understood none of it, didn’t understand why it was ok to say some things and not others, didn’t understand the pity in the other’s eyes, didn’t understand why everyone seemed so enthralled with Roman and so perturbed by him. 

He wanted, desperately wanted, those memories back, because then maybe he could begin to make sense of himself, maybe he could understand why he was, maybe he could understand who it was he mourned without feeling this nothing hollow him inside out. 

He wondered sometimes what would happen if two could become one again. Would there be sadness? Would the others mourn what they’d lost in return for their King? Or would it be relief they felt, relief that finally this was over, they didn’t have to deal with two pesky, puny wannabes’ anymore, the real deal was back in action. Would King have their memories? How odd, to have both his and Roman’s memories trying to reconcile with each other, two diverged timelines trying to make sense of each other, trying to match up dates and times and places, conversations playing over the top of each other, discordant in their differences, a symphony of dichotomy. Would it drive Him mad? 

Or would he forget, too? Would he be confused, picking up from where he left off when Thomas was a teen, needing to learn and be filled in and be taught? He’d be smart, though, smart enough to keep the ideas coming, to create content, new content, better content. Patton would smile, because his worst mistake was finally fixed. Logan would be relieved to have his discussion buddy back. Virgil would be indifferent, maybe a little upset, because now there was a change he’d need to get used to, he’d be the one to mourn, having known both of them so well. And Dee… well. He’d had that photo, hadn’t he? 

He could almost hear it sometimes, in his dreams. A sonorous voice, a booming laugh, a gentle rumble. Could almost see his face, before it drifted away into the nothing. Sometimes he woke, scrabbling for his dream journal, desperately hanging on to a thread of thought, or conversation, or something, the smallest bit of something, that he knew was a memory from Before. But as soon as he put pen to page, it was gone, drifted off, as if the only place he could find Himself was in his dreams. 

“Remus?” He didn’t stir at his name being said, didn’t even blink, didn’t give any sign of having heard anything. Half of him was still lost in his head, half in the whiteness surrounding him. Or was a quarter of him focused on each of those things, respectively, and the other half was off galivanting somewhere through the mind, not knowing a thing was wrong? 

“Remus?” Hm. His eyes must be open, after all. The rounded glasses and freckled face hovering over his field of vision proved that much. He blinked a few times, vision clearing as he confirmed his suspicions. Patton. The cat paws hanging from over his shoulders was a dead giveaway. He sighed, and closed his eyes. His lids were so heavy. 

“What’d’ya want?” he muttered, voice devoid of anything. Just like him. Empty. 

“I came to check on you. You’ve been awfully quiet today.” He felt warmth beside him, and realized Patton had sat down next to him. He would scoff, laugh, if he had the energy. 

“why’d’you care? Ns’t like you like m’ideas anyways. Should be relieved I’m quiet. N’s’not like I’m Him.” His voice would be scathing, if he had anything left to feel with. He heard an intake of breath. Good, maybe he’d just leave now. 

“Ok. That’s it, kiddo. Time to get up.” Patton’s voice was kind, but firm, and Remus peeked open an eye. 

“don’t wanna. Don’t know if I can.” He answered, Patton’s blue eyes wide with sincerity. 

“I know. But when Roman gets like this, the best thing to do is to get him up and moving. You can’t get out of a funk if you wallow in it.” That was enough to send a jolt through him, enough to motivate him to sit up, at least, because he could tell Patton wouldn’t give him more till he sat up.

“Roman?” Patton nodded, pushing his glasses up. 

“yeah. Sometimes if I don’t see him for a while, I go check on him. Sometimes he’s like this. And I do the same thing I’m gonna do with you.” Remus would almost flinch in fear at that tone, if he could. 

“Whas that?” Patton smiled, head tilted slightly, as he slipped his hand into Remus’s and tugged him to his feet, pulling him behind as he dragged them out the door of the scarily empty imagination. 

Remus didn’t make a noise as Patton settled him on the couch, tucking a blanket in around him. He stared idly at the blank TV, unable to find the will to reach for the remote. Patton returned moments later, with a tray of warmed chocolate chip cookies, and hot chocolate. Remus noticed his had extra chocolate shavings on top of the whip cream, which there was also extra of. The cookies were just the right size for dunking as well. He felt something warm tugging inside him as he took a sip, something not exclusively caused by the hot chocolate. 

They sat in silence a few moments, comfortably sipping at their drinks, Remus nibbling at a cookie, it speaking volumes that he didn’t just dump all the cookies into his mouth, ceramic plate included. He still felt light, airy, as if he weren’t quite there. But then Patton shifted closer, and there was warmth pressing against his side, and something in him snapped to the present, just a bit.

“would you miss me? If… if we could… if it ever happened… especially with all of you accepting the both of us now, would you miss me? Obviously, you’d miss Roman. But I’m not Roman. I’m nothing like Roman. He’s so good and bright and warm. He’s more like… like Him than I’ve ever been. Do you miss Him?” Remus’s eyes were bright, shining with something almost like resignation as he met Patton’s. 

“Oh kiddo. I would. I would miss you. I would miss you so much. And I’m so, so sorry, that it happened in the first place, that I caused it to happen in the first place, and I know you’ve said I’m forgiven but… but it still wasn’t right. But I would, I would rather have you now than Him back.” 

“oh.” That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Well, it was, he just hadn’t expected it to be true. For Patton to mean it. But he did. He felt himself starting to shake, and set down his mug, hugging himself against the chill. “why?” 

Patton bit his lip, fingers tapping against his mug, as he contemplated how to put all the emotions swirling in his chest to words, how to explain to Remus just how much he cared. 

“Do you know… I sometimes wonder the same thing?” Remus blinked, confused. Patton was looking away now, clutching his mug more like a lifeline. 

“I sometimes wonder… why? Why would anybody… any of you… miss me? I’m not… I’m not good! Not as Morality! I caused all this heartbreak and loss and it wasn’t my place, it should never have been my place to do that. I try and help Thomas be a good person, but it just hurts him, and I’m such a hypocrite cause I tell him not to lie, but I do all the time, I tell him not to be mean, but I was so cruel, I tell him to be polite, when all I ever did was throw barbs at you and Dee and Virgil, ignore when the others did too. I’m not… I’m not good as Patton, either. I pushed Dee away because I refused to accept him, because I judged him harshly and unfairly for something he had no control over being, for playing the villain because that was the only thing he could be, I set him up to be. I didn’t bother even trying to look past the title. I pushed you away. I made you afraid of yourself, I set you up for failure, for devastation, I never even gave you a chance, when it was my fault in the first place… I keep making mistakes. And they’ve only gotten bigger and bigger and instead of learning anything I just keep doing what I’ve always done and it just makes everything worse and it just hurts everyone more! 

So why? Why shouldn’t… shouldn’t I go? Why would anyone miss me?” His voice cracked, finally, tears slipping out from his rapidly blinking eyes as he tried to hold back the waterfall threatening to come crashing down. He’d never said that aloud. But that question resonated, he’d spent nights weighing the risks and rewards of a new, a better, morality taking his place, he’d long since discovered the answer. He was just too afraid to do anything about it.

“you’d all be better off.” He whispered softly. He hadn’t moved an inch, but he was breathing heavily, every muscle felt strained, every bone felt sore, and he wished he could take it all back, but if he was going to be honest, for once, then Remus was the one who deserved to hear it. 

“Patton-“ 

“I’d miss you. I’d miss you because how can I ever say otherwise, when you’re so much better than anything I’ve ever been? You are bright and brilliant and filled with potential and ideas and life and excitement. You look at everything and see what could be, what you could make it into. You look at life and see adventures and hopes and dreams to conquer. You’re not afraid of the dark, you thrive in it, but you know how to be gentle and kind and you’re so intuitive you always know exactly what everyone else is feeling. You’re so… real and solid and here and vibrant. That’s why I’d miss you, Ree. You… I wish I was more like you.” Patton took a breath, forcing himself to look up, to look Remus in the eyes. 

“I’d miss your smile, your real smile, the one you let out when you’re really actually happy, your nose crinkles up and your eyes get all warm and you just get all soft. I’d miss how when you get excited you vibrate with energy, bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands fluttering as if you’re already making something, seeing it so clearly. I’d miss your random outbursts, sometimes they’re startling and sometimes I find them disturbing, but they’re so sudden and sometimes they make me laugh, because I hadn’t ever thought that, and the shift in thinking is so sudden it startles me into laughter. I love our discussions on cartoon shows, how into it we get when we talk about them, overanalyzing and looking for clues everywhere, how you’re always so clever and good at figuring out foreshadowing. Even if I don’t understand it most of the time, I love your art and how passionate you are about it, and how proud you are when you show us, and how proud you are when one of your ideas gets used and you do have so many good ideas. I’d miss spontaneous sword fights, I’d miss you convincing Virgil to slide down the stairs on your mattress, I’d miss impromptu pillow fights, I’d miss random screaming and cackling from you, doors slamming because you stole something from Roman and he chases you down to get it back, or a hissing Milo storming in here missing his hat cause you and Ro are playing keep away, or you and Logan reading together or writing together or the quiet, gentle way you have with Virgil. I’d miss cooking and baking with you, because you light up, at having something to focus on, you stick your tongue out and you measure everything so carefully and even though it’s almost always a mess, I love watching you try and create your own recipes, singing and humming and skipping as you just throw whatever into a pan. I’d miss you, I’d miss you, I’d miss you. Don’t… don’t you ever think otherwise, don’t you ever-“ Patton broke off, scrubbing at his eyes with his hoodie sleeves, legs curled under him as he sniffled. 

“I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want you to break, I don’t want you to become someone else, I don’t want King back, I just… I just want… I just want you!” Then his vision was obscured by the blurriness of his tears, and he buried his head in his hands. 

He felt Remus shift on the couch, and hunched deeper into himself. He deserved to be left alone, after all, to feel all that isolation and pain that he’d forced onto all of the Others for far too long, deserved to have all of the miserable words he’d ever said to them thrown back in his face, deserved all their ridicule for the thousand times he’d heard Roman being mean, heard Logan being dismissive, and he had stood by, saying nothing, because he didn’t like them. That should have nothing to do with it. They deserved to be listened to and respected, just because he didn’t like their function didn’t mean he couldn’t like them as people, or at least treat them like people, but he hadn’t even done that!

He jumped slightly at the feeling of something soft being wrapped around him, at the arms he felt gently moving his curled body, at the warmth that wrapped itself around him. He felt like such a baby, like a stupid, overly emotional child throwing a tantrum, but he couldn’t stop it, he’d always been the most emotional, he was the heart, after all, anything the others felt, he felt tenfold. And in this, he harbored the most guilt and shame and hate towards himself. 

He was supposed to be taking care of Remus, he was supposed to be cheering him up, he wasn’t supposed to be the one having a break down right now, he couldn’t, his kiddo needed to know he was needed, needed to know he was loved, and he couldn’t do that if he was falling apart.

“I’m not. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving. I won’t ever. I promise, I promise, I promise.” Remus said softly, his words whispered into Patton’s ear, his head against the other side’s shoulder as he cradled him. 

He hadn’t expected Patton to react like… well, like this, to his musings. He’d expected some sappy response, sure, something about being a family now, and of course he liked Remus. He didn’t expect Patton to actually mean those words, to harbor such guilt over everything that had happened, hadn’t known Patton had even realized how much his attitude had hurt Remus in the past.

He didn’t realize Patton noticed when he smiled, noticed what he liked. He realized now that every time Patton was going into the kitchen, he made a point to ask Remus if he wanted to join. He realized Patton had been making an effort to include him, not because he was obligated too, but because he truly wanted Remus there, wanted Remus to like being there, wanted Remus to know he was a part of the group. That he truly, deeply… cared.

“sorry. You were the one feeling bad. I w-was gonna get out the c-coloring books cause it’s a d-distraction and t-turn on one of those extra gory s-s-scary movies you like and g-get snacks cause I d-don’t mind watching them w-with you c-cause you point out everything the m-monster could do b-better which makes me feel s-safer and I even-“ Remus chuckled softly shaking his head, stopping Patton’s rambling by placing a gentle finger against his lips. 

“it’s ok, pat. That unexpected outburst did get me out of my ‘funk’, and I think it helped you get out of yours too. And… and I don’t think anyone else would be better at your job than you. I know you made choices, and mistakes, when it came to us, but… but you learned. Think how long it took you to warm up to us. A new morality would be starting from scratch. And… and I don’t WANT a new one. I want you, Pat, I care about you, pat, so don’t even let that idea pop into your pretty little head ever again, or I’ll go digging in your squishy brain and rip the thought right out of your bleached skull.” Patton giggled, a bit nervously, at that thought, but he knew what Remus meant. 

“Do you… do you still wanna color? I got you something, actually. I’ve kinda been saving it for a rainy day.” Remus looked down into those glassy blues, staring back up at him with such hesitant hope and trust and love, and understood why everyone felt the need to so passionately protect the moral side. He nodded, and Patton slid off his lap, out from the blanket Remus had pulled around the two of them as he reached under one of the couch cushions, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he felt around for something. 

“Ah! There it is! I stashed it under here so you wouldn’t find it early. No one ever looks under the cushions!” Patton swung back around, placing a coloring book on the table in front of Remus, who’s eyes nearly literally lit up. 

On the cover was glossy, beautiful outlines of flowers and vines, all wrapping around an elegantly scripted calligraphy “Fuck Off, Bitch.” Remus squealed, falling over on the couch, kicking his legs in the air as he snatched up the book, flipping through all the pages, revealing more along the same lines. Beautiful, complicated patterns, the central object of which were different curse words, or sayings involving curses or rude language. He giggled, rolling over the other way, his head thumping into Patton’s lap, who laughed, fondly running his hand through Remus’s hair. 

“I’m guessing that means you like it?” He asked, eyes dancing with amusement. Remus just nodded, hugging the book tightly to his chest. “Then you’re gonna love these.” Patton produced a pack of markers. Remus tilted his head unnaturally far to read the labels, nearly bursting into excited tears. 

They were markers that had scents and were edible. EDIBLE. HE COULD EAT THE MARKERS. Let’s be real, he was always going to eat the markers, now they’d just actually taste good, not that he’d tell Roman that, of course. He grinned, a splitting, brilliant smile as he thought of the look on Roman’s face when he saw him licking the markers seductively, wiggling his eyebrows and making lewd noises. He was going to SCREAM! 

He laughed again, full, real, laughter, that bubbled up in his chest and tickled his insides, making him feel like he’d explode if he tried to suppress the lightness building inside him, replacing all the empty hollow spaces with joy.

He surged up, hugging Patton tightly, feet kicking against the couch, unable to stop moving in his excitement. He kissed the moral side’s cheek, eyes gleaming as he pulled back, noticing the slight blush on Patton’s face, the joy that shone in his eyes. 

Remus realized he’d never really laughed around any of the others, not an actual, real laugh. He smiled, sliding down to the floor, pulling out the markers and flipping to a random page, already planning the best use of the colors, while licking a marker labeled “Strawberry Swirl”. Not bad tasting, for a marker.

He hummed, looking over to see Patton settling next to him, having flipped on the tv and turned on The Shining, one of Remus’s favorites. It wasn’t as gory as they got, but it was unnerving, every moment sent chills up your spine, it was plausible enough to be real. He loved it. Patton pulled out his own book, full of cute woodland animals frolicking along, turning his attention back to his own book.

It was the first gift he’d ever gotten from any of them. And it was from Patton. Patton had got him a book full of swear words! Patton!!!! Swear words!!!! Just that showed how much Patton actually cared, actually understood who and what Remus was. He nudged Patton gently, the side looking up at him with warm, quizzical eyes. 

“Love you, dad.” He said, quickly, the words slipping out with all of his air, but Patton was beaming, smothering him in a hug, which he gladly returned, feeling warmth and safety and light and happiness seep into his every pore. 

“I love you too, kiddo. Always and forever.” Was the mumbled reply. 

It was, officially, the best day of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop writing stuff for this fandom/this series in particular. I have some vague ideas for arc three, but it might be a while before there's more plot. Feel free to send me ideas or prompts for some fluff or whatever, really. I'll do my best to use it!
> 
> As always, you're a saint for getting this far in this series!
> 
> PS I am working on a prequel for the mystical misfits AU I'm just real slow and low on ideas. So send me prompts for that too, if you got 'em.


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